Promises to Keep
by Sonnenkoenigen
Summary: Kanda's first mission after Alma's death.


He woke in the early hours to a song that was barely more than a whisper, the steady, hypnotic tones of Gregorian chant.

"Master, I was trying to sleep," he complained, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Yu!" General Tiedoll said, rising from his place on the floor and going over to sit on Kanda's bed. "I didn't think I'd wake you. Go back to sleep. I'll do the rest in my head."

"Why do you even do it?" Kanda asked, curling up on his side. "You don't have to anymore."

The General smiled. "I am still bound by my vows. I made promises to God, and I will not break them."

As well as being an artist, Froi Tiedoll had been a Benedictine oblate, a man who had chosen to live according to the Rule of St. Benedict without taking full monastic vows. Like everyone else in the Black Order, he was forced to leave his former life behind, but he still maintained what was to Kanda the pointless and annoying habit of reciting the Daily Office, and he seemed to think that his rosary was for more than decoration.

With his steady, even temperament and endless patience, he was considered the best General for Kanda after Alma died, but Kanda thought he'd like Zokalo better. He thought he could find a similar ruthlessness inside himself, something that might serve him well, but the decision wasn't his, so he was stuck with this crazy old man who sang Latin prayers in the middle of the night. "They made you leave the oblates," Kanda said, "so your promises don't count anymore.

The General smiled. "I was released from my vows to the Benedictines, but not from my vows to God. I promised stability, conversion of life, and obedience. Becoming an Exorcist requires all three."

"I don't want to be a Exorcist," Kanda said.

"I know that, Yu, but you're Mugen's Accommodator. This is what God is asking of you right now."

"Why me? Why couldn't Mugen pick someone else?" It was a question that had haunted Kanda since the day he lay on the floor of his room after the first experiment to force synchronization, waiting for his shattered body to mend itself. Why him? Why anyone? What kind of God would make people go through this?

"I don't know," General Tiedoll said. "All I know is that Innocence usually comes to us at a time of great need, when all would be lost without it. Mugen chose you because it needed your help to do important work."

"I don't want to do important work." All he wanted was to find that person.

"I know," the General said. "We all have moments of doubt and anger, and I'm sure that yours are even greater than the rest of ours."

Kanda felt the familiar rush of rage starting in the back of his mind. Why had they placed him with this man? General Zokalo would never have spoken to him like this. A former convict, he embraced his new calling with pleasure, taking pride in his deadly efficiency. The man had no patience for compassion, and compassion was the thing Kanda was least able to endure. "I hate you," he said as the rage began to grow. "I want a different General! I can't stand you! You drive me crazy!"

"That's the hard part about obedience," the General said as he withdrew his Innocence. It glowed brightly as something began to take shape above it, a human head and torso that bore a subtle but unmistakable resemblance to Malcom Rouvellier. "We're often told to do things we don't want to do, or even things we think we can't do. Enduring that with grace takes a lot of practice, and you're still a child." He smiled at Kanda. "You can hit this if you need to."

"No!" Kanda said, even though his balled-up fist was pounding the mattress. "I'm not…I don't want to…" What he really wanted to do was give in to the rage, destroy everything he could reach, but Rouvellier had made it very clear that if he didn't get himself under control, they would freeze him again to be used in later experiments.

Even still, his rage overwhelmed him sometimes, memory conspiring with his short temper to turn him into the monster they all thought he was, but every time it happened, Kanda found himself wrapped in the gentle branches of Maker of Heaven, only to be deposited into the arms of his Master when the worst had passed. The subsequent fussing was was probably a better deterrent than Rouvellier's threats. Kanda didn't want cuddling, a hot bath, chamomile tea or to be tucked into bed. He wanted to be left alone.

"That's good, Yu," the General said. "You're getting better at this. Can you sit up?"

Kanda knew what was coming and he dreaded it, but he also knew it was necessary. He sat cross-legged with his back to the head of the bed.

"That's right! Now close your eyes and take a deep breath," the General said, following his own advice, "then let it out very slowly, as if you're blowing a bubble. That's it! Now another one. Let it out. Very good, Yu!"

It wasn't very good, because when Kanda's mind was quiet, terrible things began to creep in, memories of the Sixth Laboratory and images that might have been memories of the person he'd been before, or maybe just memories of the nightmares he tried to forget. Even worse, the flowers that cluttered his vision began to grow until they became more real than the real world, and he had to close his eyes to keep from screaming.

His Master's voice cut through his rising panic. "If a thought comes in, put it in a bubble, where you can see it but not touch it. You can look at it if you want, or just let it float away, but keep it in the bubble. And deep breaths. Fill your lungs, so you have enough air to blow on them. Blow nice and steady, very lightly because bubbles are light and they just bounce around if you blow on them too hard."

Kanda had heard this many times, and the bubbles began to form almost before he imagined them. There were bubbles full of people and places, and he blew each one of them away. Many, many bubbles were full of lotuses, and they turned out to be harder to get rid of because unlike the people and places, they were always with him. They were just an illusion, Master Zhu had assured him, but there seemed to be more of them now, and he didn't dare tell anyone for fear of what they'd do to him if they found out. He put them in bubbles until he was surrounded by them, then blew, very carefully, until they finally began to drift upward.

Every time he sat, he had to make bubbles and they were always full of the same things, but every time, he blew them into the sky, a dark, threatening sky because some of his bubbles were full of sunshine. Clear days filled him with dread, and he hated them.

He felt the mattress shift as his Master's weight was lifted, then he heard the rustle of fabric as Tiedoll sat back down on the floor. He put all of that into a bubble, too, and blew a bit harder on it just for spite. He heard his Master's voice, the rest of of the Matins prayer, and Kanda made it into a stream of bubbles, this reminder that God seemed to find the greatest pleasure in taking away the things that mattered most and making people live without them.

Kanda put it all into bubbles, and gently blew them into the clouds.

He would feel better in a few minutes. He knew that, but he also knew that the pain and illusions would come back, that they always would. He would never be free of it, so he would never be free of the need to meditate, either. This wasn't like getting cut, where he healed right away. His regenerative powers had no effect on emotions.

He might have given up completely and become a Fallen One, out of reach of the Order forever, but he'd made a promise. No matter what it took, he was going to find that person, that woman. He'd sworn that, he knew it, and he was going to see it through. If he had to be an Exorcist in the meantime, then so be it.

A face came into his mind, indistinct as a ghost, but still achingly familiar. He put it into a bubble, but he blew on it so carefully that it only spun, it didn't float away. He watched it as a cascade of feelings came pouring out, affection, protectiveness, longing, a passion he didn't understand, each one going into a bubble until they were dancing around her like pixies, some with their faces pressed to the walls of their tiny prisons and others trying to batter their way free.

They weren't going to make it. Kanda hadn't had a bubble pop in over a month. He was getting good at this, good enough so they'd sent him on his first mission, although not without controversy. There were many who thought that he should be imprisoned or even put back into storage for good, and he wanted to show them. He wanted to prove that not only that he was just as good as any human Exorcist, he was better. Humans were cowardly and fragile, taking weeks to heal over the smallest things, while Kanda could die five times in one day and still be standing at the end of it.

He sat quietly, just breathing, waiting until one last bubble formed. In it was his fondest wish, that he had been allowed to die so he could wait for her in peace. Tears prickled his eyes as it floated over to where all of the rest were, and the pixie feelings became even more agitated or despondent. Then, with a careful, gentle breath, he sent them all into the clouds to become part of the growing thunderhead.

He never told anyone where his bubbles went, because he knew that if he did, they would badger him to change it, and he didn't want to lie and say that he had. He wanted the storm to grow. He didn't know when it would break or how, but someday it would, raining destruction down on the Order, maybe even on God Himself.

Kanda stretched, opened his eyes, and looked over at his Master. The General was sleeping, his rosary still in his hand. Kanda curled up under his blanket with his face to the wall, hoping he could get a bit more sleep before his Master started up again with Lauds.

* * *

_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, _

_But I have promises to keep, _

_And miles to go before I sleep, _

_And miles to go before I sleep._

- Robert Frost, _Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening_


End file.
